Nice and hefty

This is kinda old news, but luckily it is also not real news (in the sense of like, no newspaper would run this, and even the Onion would be like “This is not very satirical Mae, we’re going to go with ‘Guy Drools All Over His Burger Because Life Has No Meaning’” instead). So it is not a real problem. I really fucked up the logical flow of this paragraph so I’m going to start another paragraph now, and it will be my actual story instead of this little windup thing.

One time I was sitting outside a restaurant with my friend, pretty bored and also (as I will reveal again in this same sentence) kind of sexually frustrated, and I was like, “Man, friend, I just want to make out with someone. It doesn’t really matter who. I would make out with that horse.”

Because right then one of there was one of those horse and carriages going by. Also, I call all my friends “friend.” It’s like how Quakers call each other “Oats.”

So my friend looks up (GRAVELY) at this horse clopping down the street and then she looks at me and she goes, “Yeah, that makes sense. You both have big teeth.”

She was not wrong. But the horse was kind of gone by that point and if the horse had approached me, maybe I would have gone for it, but I wasn’t going to really pursue the horse. I hear the horse was kind of a douche anyway. A good horse does not kiss and neigh. Or kiss and hoove. Or kiss and ponytail. (What is the horse equivalent of kiss and tell? Why can’t I stop talking? THE END. THE END.)

Fuckin you whether times are good or bad, happy or sad!

The other day I was explaining radio censorship to my dad. We were listening to the top 40 radio station (because  my dad an I only listen to XTREME CLUB ANTHEMS) (because we are XTREMELY RELATED) and it was playing that Enrique song, “Tonight (I’m Lovin’ You).”

SIDE NOTE: I love the parentheses in that song title. I literally could look at them all day while smiling lovingly. The only way the title could be better is if it was “(Tonight) I’m (Lovin’ You)” or maybe “(Tonight I’m)(Lovin’ You)” and then you would have to use the FOIL method to talk about the song at all.

We’re listening to this song and my dad’s like, “This song is kind of… shrill,” and I was like, “Also, fun fact: it’s actually called ‘Tonight I’m Fuckin’ You.’ This is the radio edit.”

My dad, being old, is shocked and like, wonders if this has something to do with Twitter. Which is what old people wonder about everything. They see a cloud in the sky and they are like, “It is there because of Twitter.”

So later that day we’re driving back from wherever we were driving to, and that Nelly song “Just A Dream” is on the radio. And we’re listening to the part where Nelly’s telling you to put your hands up if you’ve ever loved somebody, and suddenly my dad (as if waking from a long sleep! Which is weird because he was driving and being asleep while you drive is party foul numero uno!) goes:

“But he’s really saying ‘If you’ve ever fucked somebody put your hands up.’ Right?”

Which is not right, but I bet someone makes a song that says that soon. People like putting their hands up, people like profanity… it seems like a hit waiting to happen! Or multiple hits waiting to happen! Once “If you’ve ever fucked somebody put your hands up” drops, it’s only a matter of time before “If you’ve ever shat somewhere put your hands up.”  And THEN it’s only a matter of time before insta-classic of 2016, “If you’ve ever ass put your hands up.”

Overheard in my life: Part Holocaust

[I am reading Damn You Autocorrect with my friend, because it is finals week.]

FRIEND: Did you read the one about the Fuhrer?

ME: No.

FRIEND (enunciating more): The. Fuhrer.

ME: No.

FRIEND (sort of doing a Nazi salute): The FUHRER!

ME: NO I DID NOT READ THE ONE ABOUT THE FUHRER.

FRIEND: Oh, okay.

Why. Why do I look like I don’t know what a Fuhrer is. Or the Fuhrer is. Or whatever. Hitler guys, I’m talking about Hitler!

Okay, time to go learn principal/principle (???) component regression. It’s the worst thing. Actually that is a ridiculous thing to say since like three sentences ago I was talking about the Holocaust…

 

 

I just want to know why you’re strangling me

It is always risky to go out in public. Exhibit A:

So the other day, I was on the bus. It was cold, and I was wearing a scarf.  You would think that in my many years of nonstop scarf wearing (in India! In spring, summer, fall, winter! In the shower!) I would have had some insight into how to keep a scarf on my neck. But no. My scarves come off my neck (there are better words for this… but what are they) constantly. THIS INFORMATION WILL BE IMPORTANT LATER don’t get bored.

Anyway. I’m on the bus, and this lady sits down next to me. She is also wearing a scarf. Her scarf-fringe kind of rubs against my shoulder and I think, oh no! My scarf is falling off! So I obviously, without looking, reach over and wrap one tail of her scarf around my neck.

Before she says anything (like “why are you trying to strangle me” or “this is the worst performance art ever”) I look down, realize what’s going on, unwrap her scarf and try to say “Sorry I tried to put your scarf on!” Except I am laughing so I actually just say, “HAHA sorry I tried to HEE HEE scarf!” + soundless wheezing.

Luckily the lady was very nice about it. “Don’t worry,” she said, using a facial expression that showed she was not going to call the police (yess!). “It happens sometimes. I mean, not to me, but you know… to you.”

Overheard in my life: APOCALYPTIC FIRE

So Chicago was supposed to have the worst storm in seventy years yesterday, and it was even worse than that–the worst storm of all time! In that everyone was expecting like 75 mph winds and rain the size of golf balls and instead nothing happened at all. Unless you count the three to five breezes.

Except actually, something did happen–it just didn’t have to do with the weather. A building on campus caught fire! Big fire! Flames shooting out of the roof and firefighters saying “Code: Fire” on their walkie talkies fire!  It was super weird, because we’d all been kind of expecting this weather apocalypse, and I had geared up by wearing my apocalyptically gross rainboots (they are purple and they have rainbow colored bunnies and squirrels on them… they make me look  seven years old. Also, blind) and then instead of a weather apocalypse there was a FIRE apocalypse and everyone just transferred their ampedness onto that. There were huge crowds in the street watching the building burn, and everyone was excited (because no one was in the building–empathy still exists).

I was standing next to this dude and his friend, and I didn’t know either of them. And we’re all standing there with our mouths open, watching, and then one dude goes, “WOAH.”

His friend says, “I know.” Assuming the guy is saying woah about the fire.

But then the first guy says, “We totally live in a patriarchal society!”

Overheard in my life: Episode Gay

Friend: What’s your favorite kind of coffee?

Me: I like soy hazelnut lattes!!! [Moronic smiling. I really, really like them.]

Friend: That sounds hella gay.

Me: What?!

Friend: I’m not saying being gay is bad. I’m just saying. That sounds hella gay.

Me: Oh, well then OBVIOUSLY.

***

If more than 1 person (hi Alex) read my blog, I would probably get some e-mail being like, “My gay friend/I myself, a gay individual, drink only black coffee. You are perpetuating false stereotypes of gay people and you are a homophobe!!”

Well, hypothetical e-mailer:

1) I can think of nothing less homophobic than drinking gay coffee on the daily.

2) Read OkTrends (best site ever!) and THEN we will talk about stereotypes. (They even have a little joke about gay-curiosity and soy milk, I just realized. HEYO)

Sometimes it’s just like… dude.

Today, I was at Starbucks (a place I hardly ever go because I only drink indie coffee!  Only indie!  I do not have a Starbucks gold card! What’s a gold card?) and there was a couple sitting at the table next to me.  The guy was talking ponderously to his girlfriend about music.

“You know, I was looking through my music collection today,” he said thoughtfully, “and do you know what I realized?”

He actually paused for a response.  His girlfriend said, “Hmmm?”

“I realized,” he said, adjusting his glasses that probably did not have a prescription, “that Ja Rule was never actually that good.”

I don’t usually get involved in other people’s conversations but I actually had to hold onto my chair to prevent myself from going over to him and saying “DUDE.  IT’S 2010.”

Because it is.  Two zero one zero.  Ja Rule has not made a good song… well, ever, but there has been an especially noteable lack of quality Ja (WOW) since 2001.  My friend.  I weep for you.  There is nothing sadder than being nine years behind the times… not even an even ten…

And then he started singing Mesmerize in public.  The Ashanti part.

The sexy construction of space

I have a very talented friend.  She has normal talents – for school and being vegan and running – but what I am talking about right now is her outrageous talent for dirty talk.  She is so good at it, it makes me uncomfortable.  Once, I was sitting on her exercise ball.

“Oh my god, this feels so good,” I said (mistakenly).

“Does it?  Does it feel so good?  Tell me how good it feels,” she said.

“Um… it feels okay,” I said.  I stood up.

“Oh yeahhhh.  It feels okay.  How about now?  Do you like it now?  Do you like standing next to it? You love it, don’t you?”

I decided to strategically leave at that point.

Later, I was talking to her and I said, “How do you do that?  Can you do it about anything?” She said anything.  I could pick a topic.

I looked at my reading and picked the social construction of space.

“Oh yeah.  Construct that space for me.  Oh, construct it right there.  Oh my god, it’s so… social.  It’s so social!  Don’t stop socially constructing that space!  Don’t stop now!”

I have never felt more outclassed in my life.  I have no remotely comparable talent.  I guess I can transcribe dirty talk from memory, though? That is something. Meaningful.  Never mind I WILL GO FAR.

Blah blah blah and my flippy floppies

One of the best days I had in India was the day we took boat rides.  There were some other good things about the day – for example, violent monkeys tried to steal our stuff and poop on our heads, but we escaped! Yeah! Look who’s pooping now, bitches!- but the boat rides were the best part.

The boats were like big baskets – they were made of some kind of woven plant – but they were also watertight.  I don’t know how this worked.  (I think it probably worked because plants are secretly amazing.  I saw some scaffolding in India that was made entirely of what looked like grass.  Grass!)   They were each driven by an Indian dude with a paddle, which contributed significantly to the day being awesome because it kept us from drowning ourselves.  Also, my boat’s particular dude was HEE LARIOUS.

He started being awesome right after we all got in the boat, because he pushed it a little into the lake and said, “Bye!”  We sat there staring at him stupidly for a bit, while our boat floated away from the dock, and then he said, “Haha!  Don’t worry!  This is funny boat!”  And then he pulled us back to the dock with his paddle and got in, thank god.

Our conversation for the rest of the trip was basically him scaring us – “Watch out for snakes!”  “Watch out for alligators!”  “Watch out for falling boulders!”  “Oh no!  The boat is sinking!” – and then, instead of saying “Just kidding!”, he would say, “Haha!  Funny boat!”

Although after he said “Oh no!  The boat is sinking!” he actually said, “Haha!  This boat is not the Titanic boat!”  And THEN he said, “This boat is funny boat!”  (Subtle but important difference.)

Gotta say: there is nothing better than not getting pooped on and then taking a leisurely ride in a funny boat.  Especially when someone brings along their iPhone, because then you can ride in a boat AND listen to “Country Grammar”!  (Wow, I just Googled “Country Grammar,” because it is break and I have a lot of time on my hands, and it turns out it’s not actually called that.  It’s called “Country Grammar (Hot Shit).”  Nice!)

Welcome home, Mae!

MY DAD:  Oh, hey, I forgot – I got you some gloves.  It’s sort of a welcome home gift.

ME:  Wow, thanks!  Where did you get them?

MY DAD:  I got them for free in the mail.